"So," Qrow drawls, taking a sip from his flask. "It's that kind of problem, eh?"
Ironwood rolls his eyes at the cheeky smirk that spreads across Qrow's face. He wonders, sourly, how this man could ever get a member of the female species to come within ten feet of him. His gloved hand reaches up to pull his tie, and the corner of his lips quirk up in a small smile when he remembers Winter tying it for him this morning.
"You're thinking about her right now, aren't ya?" The bearded man shakes his head in exasperation. "Jimmy my boy, you're so goddamn whipped." He quips.
"Some of us actually like being in a relationship, Qrow." The general replies sternly.
"Yeah yeah, but like I said." Qrow waves his words away and takes another long swig from his flask. He burps, and grins at the look of disgust that crosses the man's face. "Whipped."
James sighs and resists the urge to cradle his head. Why did he think that coming to this drunkard of a man would be helpful? He should have taken his advisor's advice and visited the quack love doctor in Atlas.
Seeing Ironwood sigh so despondently makes Qrow straighten. He sighs in turn and puts away his flask, levelling his old friend with a look. "So. What do you want to know?"
The general feels his eyebrow arch at the seriousness behind those words. He tries to gather the words, and hopes to the gods above that he won't get laughed out of the military. After all, who ever heard of a general asking for relationship advice?
"For starters, I want to know how to get Winter…riled up." James says, fiddling with his hands. He keeps steady eye contact with the crimson eyed man and swallows the saliva gathered in his mouth. The memories of his girlfriend fidgeting when they try to engage in a session of necking coming to mind.
It's bad enough that he's uncomfortable with skin contact considering that half his chest is made of metal, but Winter isn't exactly an expert either. Their dynamic also makes it difficult for them to be completely at ease with one another. James understands that it's difficult to get rid of a lifetime of military training and it's not like he wants to order her to touch him. The thought of abusing his influence over her makes him sick to his stomach.
"I have no doubt that Winter has her needs, and I want to fulfil them." He says, and Qrow bobs his head to show that he's listening. "But our respective stations make it difficult for her to see me as just her lover. To her, I am a general first, and a man, second."
Qrow hums and scratches his cheek idly. He muses that it sounds exactly like Winter Schnee to be that uptight, even with her boyfriend. The military hierarchy probably didn't help matters, and Ironwood was probably too much of a stiff to flirt during working hours.
That thought makes his eyes light up. Why hadn't he thought of that sooner? Flirting! The most powerful weapon ever invented by horny, naked people. Eureka!
Qrow folds his arms. "Okay, listen up Jimbo."
James grunts at the nickname and shoots him an icy glare. Qrow ignores him in favour of laying out his absolutely brilliant plan. "You gotta make her want you. Do you guys do role play or any other kinky shit?"
The general sputters in indignation. "W-What?! Of course not. The farthest we've gone is kissing and even then it's rather short."
Qrow throws his head back and groans. These virgins. They had a shitload of material for roleplay and they weren't even aware of it. "Ugh, those uniforms are wasted on you guys." He grumbles, rolling his eyes. "How much do you flirt with her in a day?"
"You mean how often I pay her compliments?" James frowns. "Once or twice throughout the day."
"Well, what do you say to her? Lay it on me."
"In most cases?" The general ponders. "That she looks nice today."
As soon as those words passed through his lips, Qrow leans across the table and slaps him across the head. The branwen looks utterly appalled, and scowls when the general shoots him a cold glare while slicking back the few hairs that were knocked out of place.
"Are you kidding me?!" The crimson eyed hunter all but shouts at the man before him.
James feels one of his eyebrows lift, entirely unamused and uncertain at why Qrow was reacting this way.
"You can literally say anything to her, and you say that she looks nice?" Qrow cringes and slaps his forehead. "Fucking idiot."
"What else am I supposed to say?" James defends, annoyed by such a violent reaction. "I also compliment how smart her uniform looks on occasion." He adds.
"How smart her uniform– no. No. No. No. Absolutely, fucking, not. Have you ever told her how beautiful her eyes are?"
He shakes his head.
"What about her smile? Her hair? Her lips? Her fucking eyebrows?" Qrow asks desperately.
Again, the general shakes his head. Winter seemed perfectly satisfied whenever he told her how nice she'd looked, so he didn't think to follow up on it. After all, both of them were people of few words – actions weighed more than words did.
"I didn't think that it was necessary." James replies smoothly. "And Winter seems perfectly fine with my compliments."
"Oh for crying out loud, of course the ice queen is satisfied. You've only ever given her the bare minimum! This ain't preschool, you gotta do more than just say that 'she looks nice' and only smiling at her when you're alone."
"…What's wrong with smiling at her only when we're alone?"
"Everything! You can't just toss her some affection whenever it suits you, you goddamn prat. Communication is a two way street, remember? If you ain't giving her love, she's not going to give any back." Qrow finishes astutely.
Internally, he's shrieking at how oblivious this guy is. His niece (the younger one) can flirt better than this guy. Actually, Qrow still can't believe that he's giving the general of the Atlas military lessons on how to woo a woman. How did this guy even get together with Winter anyway?
"That makes sense." James admits, sighing and folding his arms.
"Damn straight it does." The hunter pulls out his flask and shakes it to see how much is left. He groans when he realises that he's nearly out. "This is going to be a long lunch. Get out your goddamn notepad, Ironwood – you're going to need it."